Chasing Thunderstorms
by xXTheAnglesHaveThePhoneboxXx
Summary: Haunted by tragic loss and a painful truth, Lennox hits the road, unaware that she will be kidnapped, saved, and kidnapped again by people all with the same goal in mind. But who could have known that the most life-altering moment was when she got on the radar of someone she should have better kept herself hidden from?


**_Opening note:_**_ You: '_Argh; this is so overused_'. You: '_Argh, this is so unoriginal_'. You: '_Argh, ANOTHER ONE?_'_

_Yes, I know what you all think because believe me: I think it all the time. But trust me on this, just this once, okay? Because I've read just about seventy present of the sister!fics in this archive, and when I got fed up, I ironically decided to write a TVD story about just that. Only I decided to take a different path, so just bear with me while I get the ball rolling here._

_Welcome TVD fans! If you are like me – and as a writer, I have to assume that you are – then you like to know what you are getting yourself into when reading a fanfiction, so here you go: _Chasing Thunderstorms _begins several weeks before the pilot episode and stick fairly close to the main storylines, meanwhile keeping in mind the AU of my OC – Jeremy's big sister and Elena's twin. However, unlike in most cases, it is not my intention to focus the story on the already existing material, but rather explore the more innocent side of things because let's face it, guys: poor Matt is literally the last normal human being left in town. I literally feel incredibly sorry for him because all of his friends are vampires, werewolves, hunters, and witches. Plus the last girl he slept with – for the entire summer – was an Original. Mystic Falls needs a human, and that is what I seek to elaborate on. But fear not, this is TVD and the supernatural will be following Lennox around (quite literally)._

_Even though the story does focus on Lennox as the main protagonist, the events told directly from her point of view, there are plenty of other character playing major rolls – duh. Lennox will be facing many ups and downs and rocky roads that center on her family and how it operates, the relationships between them and how those relationships work. So rest assures, you will be seeing plenty of everyone._

_If you hate Mary Sues, you're in good company and won't find one here (though at first you may wonder, because there are a lot of unanswered questions about Lennox but please rest assured... I reveal things slowly as I build the story and as more is explained about Lennox's character, background, etc). Being the younger of a twin set, the world doesn't let her forget it. Closer to Jeremy than to she is to Elena, Lennox can be very opinionated and headstrong, but only if she puts her mind to something; and if that something is her family, than run should he who thinks he can mess with her brother and sister and get away with it. Otherwise, she is very removed and cold toward the rest of the world, untouched by it and the people in it so long as they leave her alone. This distance was the cause of many problems in her younger years, some of which will continue to haunt her, and is an issue that goes far deeper than she originally ever assumed._

**_Story Details:_****_  
>Title:<em>**_ Chasing Thunderstorms.**  
>Rating:<strong> Rated T for violence, language and darker subject material in later chapters, much character death and overall: vampires. Need more be said? May go up upon request.  
><strong>Disclaimer:<strong> Vampire Diaries and all of the characters therein do not belong to me. No profit is made in the writing of this fan fiction and so it shall remain. The cover photo is mine. Lennox is also mine, for the most part but she was inspired by the author _River Winters_ on FFn, particularly her OC character, _Alex Winchester_. Credits are where credits are due.  
><strong>SpoilersWarnings:** Much spoilers ahead, for all seasons as the story starts pre-series and will continue throughout it. Story includes family drama; overprotective Lennox; Lennox and Elena at odds; Lennox working to overcome a complicated and painful event/turning point in her life; Lennox learning to deal with emotionally heavy situation; unhealthy coping methods associated with death; some dark subject matter here and there, and plenty in later chapters; vampires being vampires.  
><strong>Pairings:<strong> Canon pairings; may add AU significant pairing to Lennox, but that's a 'maybe'.  
><strong>Special thanks:<strong> Thank you to _Dannylionthe1st_, me beta reader who is honestly _so much_ help and the greatest beta reader ever. And thank you to my beloved readers, be it fans or haters of the people stuck in between. I love you all equally!_

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><p><strong>Chasing Thunderstorms<strong>  
>Chapter 1Miles From Home

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><p>I jerked violently, loudly taking in a sharp breath through my nose as I came around from another scavenged couple hours of rest to the familiar sound of an airplane engine growling behind me. Metallica was cranked up on the portable CD player much as it was on most mornings, nights, and anywhere in between as of late. Some people looked at me funny when they saw me walking down the street with this honk of plastic and metal the size of a mini pizza. I thought it was retro – old and a little strange, but cool. Besides, screw what they thought; it wasn't like their opinion mattered.<p>

As my mind slowly resurfaced, I groggily wondered why I had bothered to sleep at all – all that came was the usual assortment of nightmares, most associated with memories, some with fears and few with… nothing. I slept, but it was by no means lasting or restful. Awkwardly curled up in an airplane seat my legs pressed tightly to my chest. I stiffly straightened up, grimacing as I tried to knead some of the soreness out of my aching shoulders and neck. I heaved deeply—sleepily—as I forced the passing oblivion from my mind, and yawned angrily.

Once upon a time – it seemed like centuries ago now – I had slept luxuriously in a queen sized bed, with three sets of woolen and silk sheets that had cocooned me warmly, heavenly. But that had been a long time ago. Realizing that the aching in my muscles wasn't going to leave me, I gave up on my neck and shoulders and yawned once more as I started rubbing sleep out of my eyes. There was a part of me, a part that once dominated in my mind, that told me to let my eyes stay closed and go back to sleep because quite frankly, airplanes made me very sleepy. But then the more rational half of me knew that if I didn't get up and face the world again, I would eventually drive myself into depression. I couldn't keep dreaming about them but I couldn't make the nightmares go away. Unfortunately, my body didn't agree with me because I was tired, hungry, and I had a headache.

"I'm sorry, miss. I didn't mean to startle you." I glanced up at the flight attendant under heavy lids. She didn't wake me. She didn't even _touch_ me. But I knew she was going to touch me, to wake me even as I slept. I could just feel her standing there over me, not realizing she was breaking me out of a nightmare I couldn't remember. Not knowing what a favor she was unwittingly doing for me as she reached out to touch my shoulder. And I would have been thankful if I actually asked her for that favor. I would have been grateful if I actually wanted to be awakened to a place where the dream I was having was hanging by a whisper-light thread in the back on my mind, and taunting me as it sat just out of reach. Not a picture, not a blinking image—there was only a dreaded feeling of cold and fear from a night terror I couldn't remember even when I tried—even when I wanted so much to know what was terrifying me so as to make me wake up covered in a thin sheet of cold sweat. I would stay sleeping if it meant I could remember what I was dreaming.

I wanted to growl at her to leave me alone but realized she was going to ask me to put my seatbelt on when my eyes darted upward to the announcement board. There the belt was alight in a dull orange. I sat up straight and pulled my CD player up off the floor by the headphone cord before buckling in for the decent. The ball of my hand was pressed up to my eyes tiredly as I sighed. Here goes nothing.

The plane banked and I sucked in a breath, heart pumping faster and faster as we began our decent. I gripped the armrest, whitening my knuckles in the process. The rush of adrenaline was unlike anything else – except for maybe skydiving and speeding at twice the limit on a motorcycle, not that I've ever actually gone skydiving before. Moments like that were the ones where you really stopped to consider that you may not get out of it alive – it was just a feather-light idea, hanging on a thread in the back of your head. Barely present, not completely in my grasp, but I felt it dangling in the breeze like a wind chime. I liked to think of it as a sort of wakeup call that showed you exactly how little you've accomplished in life, considering that bucket list never really shrunk, no matter what you did. There was always so much to do that often times I just forgot half of it.

Then again, I'm only seventeen. Still a ton of time to do everything I wanted with a little extra left to spare.

But, if I was honest with myself, that particular prospect scared the crap out of me, that whole notion of long term plans and the words '_rest of my life_'. Scared me a lot more, as of late; in truth, you never know how much time you really have. In the end, there is only ever _today_ and _right now_. And as life showed me a month and a half ago, everything you've ever wanted can be taken away in one moment.

It was a terrible thing to take away from my own parents' passing, but it was the truth. In a sinister, dark irony kind of way, the accident did teach me something valuable in life. I visible shuttered at the thought, almost disgusted with the idea, and tried to dismiss it.

Three months ago mom and dad told me that I was going back home for good when school was done and summer came, as they were confident that I learned my lessons well; the trip was a gift, considering my outrageous behavior prior to my leaving. We settled all expenses with the child care program and they sent me back to live with my family – rather, what was left of it. I was originally sent to live with my distant relatives somewhere down the line two years ago, more for boarding school than anything else. Mom hoped it would teach me some responsibility. We had a falling out, and she put her foot down – stomped it, more like – and shipped me off southwest, to California to attend a Catholic boarding school under the supervision on my… I got this: the uncle of my third cousin twice removed Charlie. My dad had asked – insisted – that I go live with them for a while.

With Charlie's military past, his job was to make me a more responsible person. Between curfews, harsh and long-lasting punishments, and a Catholic boarding school I was forced to drop my usual hobbies and my snobbish, dickhead behavior overall, and grow some. It eventually began to scare me, how little respect I had for my parents. Charlie, a man I'd seen on every other Christmas, before being forced to move in with him, got three times more respect out of me than mom and dad when I was dropped on his head like a pile of snow for two years. I was so horrible to them, so selfish. It made me wonder why they ever put up with me at all without sending me to a military school. Maybe that would have taught me to grow up and act my age.

It wasn't like I gave up and started acting more grown up all of the sudden. Oh no, when I first arrived, I was furious. I wanted to hate all the people involved and I wanted to hate all of my new neighbors and schoolmates and teacher. I wanted to hate everybody who made me do it. I felt like my freedom was snatched from me with no rhyme or reason, like the only thing I loved was stolen from me. Charlie quickly started going all '_boot camp_' on me and by the time summer was over, I was actually excited for a boarding school that had uniforms and taught religion as a mandatory extracurricular.

Then the winter break came, and the spring break and summer was back again, and for all of those times when school was out, I would go back. Sure, most of those time my family came over to visit, or vice versa, but Charlie was still the one enforcing the rules, and if I wanted to keep my electronics in my possession, I did what he said. Over time, I finally learned to appreciate what he did for me. I learned to be grateful for what I had and he was the one who taught me that. He was strict, he never explained himself to me because really, he didn't have to, and eventually, I started respecting him for who he was and for what he did. He wasn't unfair, and he wasn't unjust; there was a good balance of freedoms and responsibilities and I finally saw my wrongs and tried to fix them.

After a while I realized I didn't need to prove anything to anyone. I didn't need to prove that I was some hardcore rebel with no care for rules and responsibility, nor did I need to show anybody that I was original. There was just me; no Jeremy, and certainly no _Elena_. I had no twin to compete with—no twin to live up to because really, nobody knew and nobody cared.

And now here I was, on my way back home, but somehow it felt nothing like what I imagined. There was no great joy, no disappointment, no giddiness, just anxiety. Two years didn't seem like a long time when I really thought about it. But I changed over those two years. That meant _they _had to be different as well. People changed all the time, right? Did Jeremy still blast _Our Lady Peace_ before bed? It was our band, after all. Elena and mom always read Harry Potter together. Both could recite each book by heart by now. What would she be doing now? Sure we visited every chance we got – on extra-long weekends, and on breaks and vacations. We spoke over the phone or over Skype as often as possible. I used a payphone when I was grounded, just so I could call home. But visiting home and living there again, I realized when I boarded this plane, were two different things. I didn't know if I was ready to go back, mainly because I knew that I wouldn't be returning to the same home I left behind.

But recently the absence got unbearable. Every once in a while I entertained the idea that I did miss being compared to my older sis, and I missed hanging with her pals all night and gossiping about the boys on the water polo team. Sometimes, I toyed around with the thought of being blamed for every little thing my siblings did and taking it all silently because it was my job. I was stuck in the middle, after all. I was the scapegoat for both. I just hadn't decided yet if I really did miss them that much as to go back to taking the blame, or if that was just my homesickness talking.

The one thing I did miss was the low population of thirty-some thousand. It was quiet—serine—peaceful. Nothing happened there. We weren't even big enough for a proper police force. We only had sheriffs to keep the peace. I knew all of my neighbors by name and in the spring, I would get very messy helping mom plant forget-me-nots in the backyard.

Or at least that's how it used to be. I didn't know how it would be now. I didn't know how Jeremy was coping. I didn't know how Elena got by. And I couldn't even remember the last time I spoke to Aunt Jenna in person. Before the accident, I guess. I didn't remember if I talked to her afterwards. Maybe once, maybe twice I couldn't remember. I couldn't remember a lot of the first month—some of this month, too. It was all just a bit… out of focus. I tried to think about school, and about work, and about Charlie going easier on me in the past month and a half. Truth be told, I was meant to get on this airplane a month ago, but first Charlie couldn't get me out of bed even if he dumped a bucket of ice on my head. Later, I got into the habit of going through my routines of getting up, doing my chores, and back to my bedroom and locking the door. For a while, I was just deaf to the world.

I wasn't stupid, though. I knew he was giving me a break. His arguing stopped after a while, and he gave up on trying to convince me to do anything. Of course he told me on multiple occasions to partake in a depression group or at least utter a single word out loud. Unfortunately, his requests and suggestions and, later, orders fell upon deaf ears until eventually the waiting got to me and I bought a ticket for myself. I didn't need anything from Charlie. I didn't want his sympathy, didn't need his kindness. What I needed was a distraction. What I need was something to do. I've never wanted to go to school or work this much in my life. I just wanted to do something, anything, as long as it kept me on the move and my mind sharp. At first I thought that if I ignored it long enough, everything would just go away. But when it didn't, I gathered up all the guts I had left and called home, telling them I was sending my luggage ahead. It was easily the hardest call I have ever made, and it left me feeling raw inside, hollow.

I combed my fingers through the cropped spikes hovering over my forehead, inhaling deeply as our descent continued. I missed them. Whichever deity that was sitting up above and watching over us knew that I missed my family. I just didn't know if I could face them anymore. If I was uncertain when the plane took off three hours ago, I was downright terrified now. And although I wouldn't admit it out loud, the thing I was most scared of wasn't what anybody else would think. To be honest, I didn't care about what anybody else would think. It wasn't any of their business. Whatever complaints they held they could roll up into a tube and shove up their ass. I wasn't emotionally invested enough yet – or would that be _anymore_ now? – to care as much as I should. What scared me was what Jeremy would think of me.

And that brought me to _the question_. The one question I kept asking myself, every single day since I got the call. Was I to blame? Every day I came up with a different answer, having yet to decide on the truth. A part of me liked to believe that I had nothing to do with it – that it was just bad luck. But then I remembered the reason I had nothing to do with it, remembered the reason I wasn't_there_ to do anything. It was all on me.

Did Jeremy blame me? Did Elena blame me? Did Aunt Jenna? This, too, I couldn't stop asking myself until at one point I realized I didn't know the answer. Not because they were all very emotional right now, but because if mom and dad's death sent me to the dangerous ledge of depression, what did it do to them? I hadn't even bothered to ask how they were fairing; too focused on how much I was hurt, I forgot to find out what affect the ordeal had on my family. By my guesses, Elena probably blamed herself, her being the one to survive and not mom and dad. Jeremy would probably have retreated into himself; he was confidant, but not enough to open up his soul and pour his heart out on the table – most males weren't. Certainly, talking about your problems made them more bearable, but that was only if you could overcome the initial awkwardness of spilling your soul out to another person. He trusted Elena, but I wasn't sure if he would take comfort in her as much as he should. He might have played it off like it didn't hurt him as much as it did, losing both parents.

Elena would go out of her way at first, to comfort him. She would stay strong for him and keep the tears at bay. She would act like she was alright for his sake, but once she realized it wasn't helping she would just be willing to be anything, whenever he needed it. She would be his crying shoulder, his punching bag, his friend and confidant, his enemy. She would be quiet and make sure he was safe and let him come to her in his own time. And the more Jeremy would hide away from the world, the more she would feel guilty for what happened, for being the one to survive, and not mom and dad.

But the really question that I had to answer was how they would react upon seeing me again.

I had yet to gather the scraps and remnants of whatever willpower I had, to go back and face the world with a bright smile on my face. After all, in the words of Dean Winchester, the most difficult phase in life isn't when no one understands you; it's when you don't understand yourself. That right there was some real deep stuff. I mean you just had to smile sometimes. You smile until the week was out, because it was the job – because you have to convince everyone that it was alright. Then you smiled again, and again, and again until you start believing it, too. You smiled until you forgot why you had to force it and then everything really was alright. And then nothing could hurt you anymore.

I look down at my left hand, the charms on the silver chain shaking with the airplane as it touched down. It bounced once, twice, thrice before sticking to the paved runway. _Welcome back to Virginia, Lennox. I hope you find whatever it is you're looking for… just as soon as you figure out what that really is_. A lighter, a flask, the Colt, a five-point star in a circle, a tiny glass bottle of salt, a dagger, a silver shot, a shovel, a set of angle wings and what is supposed to be a '67 Chevy Impala: All of that fit on a length of silver rings, attached together and fashioned into a charm bracelet – or rather, a _fangirl_ charm bracelet. And all I could think about was that it was Jeremy who helped me find it on eBay in the first place.

The charm bracelet part he wasn't too crazy about – to girly for him, apparently – but cars and guns were definitely his thing. I was jumping up and down with fangirl joy when it arrived in the mail, and had yet to take it off but every time I looked at it now, I felt guilty. I felt so very guilty. Again, I wondered if Jeremy blamed me for what happened. I'm his older sister and Elena's younger. It was my job to be there on that night of the party. I could have been the one to take her home. Maybe if it was me behind the wheel than nothing would have happened. We'd have gotten home safe and mom and dad would still be here. I was supposed to watch over the two of them. It was my job to be the responsible one, the mature one. I was obligated to be a good role model. Instead I was stupid and reckless and just plain ridiculous. And as a result, I couldn't be there when my family needed me most. How did I screw up that bad?

If I had been at that bonfire party with her, we'd have walked home together and talked and shared some quality time together for fifteen minutes until we were home and safe. Instead Elena had to call mom and dad to get her. Look at where that got them.

I knew where I needed to go once I got off the plane. I knew who would be waiting for me and where they would be standing. It was a practiced image printed on the inside of my lids. I didn't go there, though. The port was right there, some seventy yards to my right. Just past it would be my aunty and she would be waiting to take me back. But I couldn't take a step in that direction no matter how hard I tried to convince myself that it was time to go. I stood in the middle of the large room, people going about their business like scattered ants rushing up and down their hill. If I turned and walked less than a hundred paces, I would meet up with Jenna. All I had to do was make the first step.

Instead, I headed for food court. It was practically on the other side of the airport, to be frank, and it took me twenty minutes of aimless walking before I found it. It was twenty minutes of immeasurable guilt. I couldn't stop thinking about Jeremy. How did he feel about me? Did he think I was responsible for mom and dad's death? Would he blame me for leaving him alone? Would he hate me for what I'd failed to do?

On the one hand, I wasn't the one to shove their car off a bridge. On the other hand, if I was there to pick Elena up after the party, nothing would have happened and we'd be safe at home. But I will never know what might have happened because I wasn't there. I missed my chance to be the sister Jeremy and Elena both needed, and I certainly missed the chance to be the daughter mom and dad always wanted. What they wanted was another Elena; for me to be a good girl and follow all the rules and be social and athletic; for me to hang out with normal, nice people that weren't a terrible influence on me. They wanted for me to excel in what I did and it wasn't such a bad dream. What kind of parent wants anything different for their child? A good education, fair friends that are not a shame to introduce at family gatherings; a sweet, polite attitude towards everyone, topping it all off with a nice little bit 'acceptable goals' in life.

But instead of doing for them what they did for me, I spit down on their shoes and walked out like I had any right to behave that way. Why did they not send me to a military school, again? Maybe it would have taught me a thing or two about appreciating what my parents did for me. I had the childhood of dreams, with the best parents ever. But I was selfish, and I only knew to see the bad at the time. Most of that 'bad' was Elena, and she was bad only because she came first. If I was born ten minute sooner than she, everyone would be comparing her to me, not the other way around. Instead, I was immediately put under the expectation to be a mirror image of her, just because I came second.

That was my greatest mistake, really, giving a crap what others thought and wanted. I got so focused on what everybody else wanted from me and how much I needed to prove them all wrong, that I forgot what my family – the only people whose opinions really mattered – wanted _for_ me. I ended up pushing them away; I forgot to be grateful for what I had and now my mom and dad were gone. I cared too much about what I had to prove; I shouldn't have.

Well, there went that whole 'talk it out' BS that they feed you in middle school. Who knew it actually might have been the difference that I didn't take advantage of. This must be that phase. That time in life when you look back to a year ago, a month, a week and you think to yourself, _Holy crap that was humiliating; how in the world did I actually think that way?_ I had to be going through one of those phases now because _Jesus Christ_, what the hell was my problem!

They just wanted for me to be a decent person with a decent life planed out ahead of time. I didn't have to fight anybody; I didn't have to convince anybody, that I was original. The most important people on my life already knew that, but I was selfish and I let them down. I was a disappointment.

Oh God, Jeremy and Elena probably both hated me. How did I screw up this bad? How did I end up in this situation and why didn't I grow me a brain sooner? Why the hell did my parents have to die for me to finally see how much I had? What the hell was my problem?!

I took a deep breath, munching on the chips I got at the vending machine, finally deciding that it was time to face Aunt Jenna. After all, I couldn't wander the airport forever. Jenna would be worried sick if I did and, considering I was starting to feel a little jet lag, I would probably go to the bathroom and accidentally fall asleep on the toilet. I could face her. It would be easy. I had nothing to fear. It wasn't like she was going to take a bite out of me or anything. Aunt Jenna was easily the coolest aunt on this side of the planet, so she'd be alright.

When I found her in the waiting area, sitting in a chair my resolve wavered for a moment. What if she was only here because she had to be? What if she didn't really want to see me?

No. No, she had to be here on her own accord. She wouldn't have demanded to take custody of me otherwise. She was eager to see me. She _had_ to be!

I wasn't sure if I was telling myself I was being stupid or if I was trying to convince myself it was true as I inhaled deeply through my nose and started slowly, carefully, and walked toward her. The blonde woman looked up from her magazine, almost as if she heard me, and stood up in an instant.

She abandoned the magazine on the neighboring chair and a smile bloomed on her face but it was sad. She was sad. So very sad. She was devastated, even now as she tried to hide it, tried hard to keep her warm smile genuine. She was truly, honestly happy to finally see me, but she was hurting so badly. When I gave her a weak, sad smile, her own face dropped. She never looked away from me, her features fallen, agonized and it took what appeared to be every ounce of her strength to keep a straight face. Her dirty blond hair was up in a ponytail at the crown of her head, a lone stand falling over the side of her oval face.

Aunt Jenna reached her arms out a fraction and I didn't hesitate to accept her embrace. It was good to hug her – safe, secure, sure. It didn't feel like it did the last time I hugged her. I was bigger and she seemed to have shrunk some. She was perfectly leveled with me now, and equal height between the two of us. I was finally out of my second growth spurt, built more to the likes of her feminine form now, more than my flat-chest, fifteen year old self with no breast, no ass, and certainly no hips. I used to be a matchstick until I hit growth spurt number one, in which I shot up from four feet something to nearly six in the span of a handful of months. None of my cloths fit and during growth spurt number two not a year later, my curves decided to pop up out of nowhere and make me look more like a woman than a twelve-year-old boy with a PlayStation addiction. Talk about late blooming.

I was older, so much older and, hopefully, so much smarter. I buried my face in her shoulder and felt like I would cry.

I didn't. Moreover, I knew I couldn't. Tried for what felt like forever, but couldn't.

My mom was dead. My dad was dead. My brother and his state of mind was a mystery to me. The last time I spoke to Elena was three months ago and we didn't really even speak: we shouted and argued. Jenna was the first close relative I've seen in a month and a half. I'd never go that long without seeing at least one of them, at least over video chat. And I couldn't make myself cry even as in the back of my mind I wanted to.

Maybe, in a sinister, cruel kind of way _couldn't_ wasn't even the right word. Hell, a small part of me knew for certain that it wasn't the right word. _Wouldn't_ was more like it and cruel as if were, it was true. I not just couldn't cry; I wouldn't.

"I missed you," I stated simply, bluntly. I didn't need to elaborate, or put any amount of emotion into my voice to make it more believable. She knew exactly how much I missed her without all of that unnecessary nonsense.

"I missed you, too, kid," she said, a light smirk in her voice. I didn't feel so alone anymore. We pulled apart, but I kept a hold on her elbow and forearm out of fear that if I let go, I will drown. We didn't speak for a moment. Maybe she was thinking about what to say. I waited for her patiently, wondering what was going through her mind. Eventually, she took a deep, calming, deciding breath and spoke.

"How are you holding up?"

How was I holding up? I'd tell you if I knew. Good… bad… totally… not at all… I didn't know. I couldn't decide. There was no way I could be past the five stages of grief, because I didn't lose a dog, I lost my parents. . But if I told her I couldn't sleep for more than a couple of hours at a time and had nightmares I couldn't remember, she would worry herself sick over it; she had too much on her plate for that.

So I settled with a vague, multi-meaning, "I'm okay," for an answer. She could spin it whichever way she wanted and I wouldn't have to go into detail, because I really wasn't in the mood to talk about my feelings. Aunt Jenna's lips twitched, like she had to stop herself from giving me another sad smile.

"Is that 'Lennox' code for _I'm definitely not okay_?" she asked quietly, evenly, and I frowned.

"Why?" I asked and this time she did give me her sad smile, never breaking eye contact.

"Because I'm okay, too." This was my cue to start crying like a normal person. Instead, I just hugged her once again for good measure, tighter than last time but pulled away sooner than before. She was trying to hold herself together just as much as I was and the sooner I started acting like I was just fine, the easier it would be for both of us. She lost a sister just as much as I lost a mother, after all. It wasn't fair on my part, to further tear scars that had yet to start healing.

"I'm tired. I've been in the air for three hours and airplane food sucks," I said quickly, changing the subject and bringing a lighter mood in. "I got me some chips at a vending machine but I ate them in, like… half a minute. Plus I've got jet lag. I feel like jelly, every organ in my body just shrunk to half its size, and if I close my eyes I might forget how to open them. Let's get out of here before I turn into a sick puddle of goo, or this manifests into a sob fest in the middle of the airport." I gave her a good laugh, stretching my lips into a smile and grabbing her by the hand. Aunt Jenna followed suit, turning the page on her emotions and keeping up with my changed mood for both our sakes.

"Sob fest? Did you start caring what people think again?" she asked jokingly. I rolled my eyes and shook my head.

"Nah, I just don't want the airport security to show up and break us up, thinking someone just lost an arm in an unfortunate chainsaw accident." Jenna snorted, and I grinned at her. "How are things back home? Did all my stuff come alright?"

"Yeah, we got your bags two weeks ago. Did you sell half your clothes to by another warehouse for your art supplies? I know you can get a little passionate every now and then, but I found paints in your suitcase in colors that I didn't even know existed," she told me, giving me a pointed look. I shook my head.

"No. We just had this charity drive last year, where we all had to donate something. And considering that some of my clothes I've had since forever, I didn't really want to throw them out. So I donated them," I said, leaving out the part where I ruined a good thirty percent of my wardrobe soon after I got the news of what happened to mom and dad. I took my anger out on my canvas and paints, and in the process destroyed my clothes. They were not up for saving. And now here I was, little over a month and a half later. I was heading home.

I contemplated asking Aunt Jenna about Jeremy but decided against it. I would rather see for myself. Hearing it and seeing it with my own two eyes were very different things and having her tell me would never compare to witnessing it. I had to see him for myself. I trusted Elena to be handling it in an adult fashion and wasn't really worried about her hurting herself in anger or sadness or devastation. I also trusted her with looking out for Jeremy in his time of need, but I was not there for my family once, and I wasn't making that mistake again.

"Aunt Jenna?" I asked, still on the trek to change the subject. Maybe if I thought about something irrelevant long enough, they would take the forefront of my mind. She _Mmm_'ed, turning her head to look at me as we made our way to the automatic doors of the exit. "What happened to all of my things?"

Jenna arched her eyebrows, and then brought them down into a creased V over the ridge of her nose. "I mean the time before last I came over, whatever stuff I left was still in our room, but last time it was all gone, and the mattress on my bed was missing." The last time I visited home was three months ago. That's when they told me I was scheduled back to Mystic Falls over the summer break. We kept up communication between then and my parents' passing but I never got around to asking. I kept forgetting when I called, and nobody ever mentioned it.

Her face lit up in recognition and she almost laughed at something. "Oh that's right, you don't know!" Jena exclaimed. "You and Elena aren't sharing a room anymore," she told me. My eyebrows shot to my hairline. She and I had shared a room since the womb. Actually, we shared seventy percent of the things she and I owned. It's always been _our_ room, and _our_ school supplies, and _our_ friends, and _our_ favorite food. Aside from _my_ art and music stuff, and _her_ cheer equipment, basically everything else was split between the two of us. That was how it was for the first fourteen years of my life, before I was forced to partake in a… extended leave. For two years, it was always just _me_, but it wasn't the same as things being just _mine_. I was expecting to go back to sharing our things but separate rooms—the idea was both welcoming and frightening.

Elena and I had our share of fights but I was afraid of thunderstorms when I was little. Elena was the one I crawled into bed with, not mom or dad. Or course then that led Jeremy to joining us in tears, when he was five, and the three of us crammed up on Elena's bed all night. Elena was the one who shouted at me for leaving my things in an atrocious mess on her side of the room. She was the one who always picked them up after me until mom put her foot down and made me clean up the entire room, my stuff and Elena's, until I was sent away. Elena was the person I borrowed clothes from without asking. She was the person I always went to when I needed to copy science homework. It always was hers and mine, _our_ room. And now it was put to an end. Just me and my big, empty, quiet room. I suddenly felt cold.

"I'm… not going to be sharing a room with her anymore?" I asked, needing the clarification. Was this really it? Was I finally going to have my own space? "I'm going to have my own bedroom?" Jenna nodded with a bright smile, but it fell when she saw the look I was wearing.

"Please, Lennox, try to contain your enthusiasm," she said dryly. "You're making me embarrassed." I resisted the urge to roll my eyes at her sarcasm, and shook my head a little, dropping it a fraction. "Hey… why the long face? I thought you'd be happy to get your own breathing space," she said, nudging me in the side with her elbow. I shrugged.

"I don't… I don't know. I was just expecting to go back to having to splitting my room in two. I'm just a little… surprised," I explained. "I mean it's totally cool that I get my own room but… I was always sharing my room with her. Never figured I'd have one to myself."

"You're seventeen," Aunt Jenna stated bluntly, like it was the most obvious thing in the world. She could as well have observed that the sky was blue and water was wet. "You need a space for yourself. Plus with all the new art and music equipment you sent ahead, splitting a room in two won't cut it anymore," she added with a chuckle. I smiled down at my worn combat boots – they were a size or two too big, and the laces were lose and tucked away inside. "And what were you planning to do once you moved out, eh? Tag after her and share a room when you're twenty five?"

Okay, point. Now I felt really stupid.

I cleared my throat involuntarily and shifted my gaze between my hands, which were twitching awkwardly in my lap, and the passing landscape outside the car window. I didn't pay much attention to it, the city quickly becoming boring and then we were out in the country, heading back to small and quiet Mystic Falls.

The ride back home was filled with similar talk. We spoke of little things, small details that filled me in on some of the things I missed but I kept from the larger plot points – I needed to see those for myself. Elena broke up with Matt – a friend of mine's younger brother – after the accident. She decided to skip out on cheer camp and stay home for the summer. Jeremy started hanging out with Vicki – to this I scoffed, considering that Jeremy was fifteen, soon to be sixteen, and she was eighteen. I told her about the marks I received at the end of the year, that they were surprisingly high – especially in PE (although in all honesty, that one was more of a 'most improved' than anything, which was good because I was finally done with dancing on the line of failure in the class that you literally came to, to play dodgeball). She said she'd believe it when she saw it. It was pretty pathetic.

"Don't think you get a free pass now that you're back home. I expect the attitude gone and the responsibility to stay," she told me sternly and I nodded, proud. Aunt Jenna was right. This was going to be a new year, and a new beginning and a new chance, and like hell was I going to let my bad habits get in the way. I was going to make my mom and dad proud, even if they weren't there to see it. In fact, the fact that they would never see it made it that much more imperative. I wouldn't let them down.

We pulled up at the curb and I sat in the passenger seat for a little, watching the town fall asleep. It was around ten at night, and a lot of the houses were dark. Need it be said that many still had the lights on but, slowly but surely they, too, would turn in for the night. I got out and closed the door, the clap feeling awfully loud on the quiet street. It was so out of place, disturbing the peace in a rude kind of way, like when people talked in theaters or interrupted the teacher to add in their own two cents that no one could give two craps about. It was unnerving.

Aunt Jenna was already beside me, and walking down the path toward the front door but I couldn't move. I watched the ghost house warily, as though it might come to life and reach out with its carpet tongue and eat me up alive. I shiver at the memory. Kids' movie or not, watching Monster House was a big mistake. I had slept with the shutters closed for a months after that.

The 'what if's came again, racing in my mind like Formula One cars. They were finally about to be answered, but I suddenly had cold feet. I wasn't getting married, for Heaven's sake! This was _my_ house, this was where I grew up; turning the doorknob and walking in shouldn't be this damn difficult!

Oh, but it was.

One minute passed, and then another, and another and soon it were a good five minutes of standing in the street, looking at the house that had once been the home of five – or so it felt. Now it was the home of two, and a temporary resident that had sped right back to Virginia upon hearing the news, to take care of her niece and nephew. Aunt Jenna turned around from the middle of the path and saw that I wasn't following her; worry took over her features.

"Lennox, what's wrong?" she asked, and I shrugged like there wasn't anything the matter. After what felt like another five very long minutes, I forced my legs to move. I unglued my boots from the curb and took one step, and then another until I was walking down the paved path that lead to the front door. The stairs creaked under my feet and I was surprised at the sound. I didn't remember them creaking before. Did they creak before I left as well? Were the rails this weathered, sickening shade of white? Did the pillars supporting the canopy always this… tall? And since when did we have this American flag to the left of the door. Was that there before? It was too big, and out of place in the face of the paper white walls. I was happy here once.

"Lennox?" I was startled out of my thoughts when I looked up and nearly walked face first into the door. I jerked back like it might shock me, and stared at it a while longer. "This is all yours. You do it your way," Aunt Jenna told me. I looked at her, and then at the door, and then back at her before rising my fist. It was now or never – so to speak. I couldn't stay out here till midnight, waiting for some miracle to take place. I had to do this; it was my responsibility to do this. It was stupid to knock on the front door of my own house; but I couldn't shake the feeling that needed permission to get in. So I knocked four times and waited for the door to open. I didn't know what to expect, and when Elena opened the door, looking tired and worn out and a little depressed, neither of us spoke.

Elena. It had to be Elena. But then again, I'd rather it was Elena than Jeremy. At lease with Elena I knew roughly what to expect of her. Not Jeremy though. She would most likely yell at me for being AWOL for so long, then she would lecture me on what was expected of me and what I failed to do, and then she would apologies and we would pretend nothing happened for a little while. Then it would be shouting and accusing and hating each other's guts all over again. And that was what I prepared myself for.

And I was disappointed.

"Hey," she said, her voice even and controlled and low. But even so, the heavy sadness that she tried to keep from her face seeped deeply into that one word. In how many ways, exactly, can one single person fall apart? How many pains could their heart take before they gave up? Because from that single word, she seemed to be suffering them all. Like all that was holding her together was her sense of responsibility to Jeremy and myself; like the only reason she tried to appear whole was because she knew she had to. And once again I was reminded why we were twins and why everyone expected us to be one and the same.

"Hi," I echoed, struggling to swallow against the fist-sized lump in my throat. I couldn't meet her eyes even when I tried. My own trailed down to look anywhere but her face. She might have been too torn apart to be angry or to hate me, but that didn't mean that she didn't want to. I didn't hold it against her, couldn't...

It should have been me.

As if she could read my mind, Elena shook her head forcefully. "_No_," she demanded, stepping through the doorframe and grabbing my shoulders. I looked up biting the inside of my cheek and she shook her head again. "Don't think that. Not for one moment. Do you understand me? You can't think that."

"I should have been here."

"And I'm not arguing you on that," Elena said. "But I was the one who went to the party, not you. It was my decision, and the consequences are on me." She dropped her hands from my shoulders and hugged me. I became stiff again, unsure how to respond but eventually I awkwardly brought my arms up to rest on her back tentatively. I felt really out of place suddenly; not that I didn't belong there so much as that I didn't really know what to do or say, of anything at all.

When she finally let me go, a guilty part of me felt very relieved. We stood looking at each other for a moment, and in those several seconds between Elena looking on the verge of tears and her blinking them away and putting on a bright smile, something clicked. No matter what I did, this was my home. And like hell would I let some stupid insecurity chase me away from it. This was my house and home, this was my family and everything I loved in the world, and I wasn't going to let my mistake take that away from me.

I blinked and smiled, and let Elena lead me back into the house.

I wasn't sure how I felt about that quite yet, thought.

* * *

><p><strong><em>Closing note:<em>**_ And thus chapter one is concluded! How was it? What do you think? Please leave me a review to let me know what you think! I want to know the likes, the dislikes, the praises and the criticisms, want-to-see – **Everything**! What did I do well at, what can I improve, what are your predictions/hopes for chapter three? Please let me know!_

_Have a wonderful day/night!_


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